


Isolation

by aBeautifulWorld



Category: Ib (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:06:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7493172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aBeautifulWorld/pseuds/aBeautifulWorld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eyes darted across the dark halls, never stopping on one portrait for too long, too focused on trying to find a door, an exit, an escape. Then, she sees it. A short Mary piece inspired by a less popular Guertena painting, and also A Painting's Demise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Isolation

She took slow, unsure steps across the black carpet, fingers fiddling with the soft material of her dress. Mary glanced back at the staircase from which she came from, then at the various paintings and sculptures that she had called her family for as long as she could remember. The dim lighting and unfamiliar surroundings made her uncomfortable. Was she still in the art gallery? Was this the world she longed to see?

She doesn't know, she just wants to go. Eyes darted across the dark halls, never stopping on one portrait for too long, too focused on trying to find a door, an exit, an escape. Then, she sees it.

She stands a little too close, so absorbed was she in the painting that she doesn't think she has encountered before.

Beach ?

She blinked at the painting, smiling softly as a gentle breeze rustle through her golden locks, tickling her smooth unblemished skin. Her eyes widen in surprise, remembering a book she had read somewhere about something called the _ocean._

The ocean was supposedly salty, because long ago a ship carrying lots of salt drowned and made the water the way it is now. She wanted to try and taste it. There would be water as far as the eye could see.

Mary had only ever seen and felt rain inside that small room in the brown area. She couldn't imagine so much water before her eyes, but she had seen the pictures, gorgeous blue and green waves, like the oil paints her father used for the Fisherman portrait.

What would it be like to dip her feet into the water? To "swim" and play and splash cold water with someone who loves her. It could be her parents, it could be her sister. How does sand feel in between her toes and stuck in her hair, when she would roll about on the grainy beach?

The thoughts and questions only made her heart beat faster, and with a dizzying spin, she dashed off with a ferocious single-minded intensity.

There has to be a way out. There _has to be._

She doesn't just want to go outside, she needs to. Mary could feel it in her bones, driving her, even as the gallery turned darker and darker, even as she chokes on the darkness of a world she thought that loved her.

She was going to see the outside world, feel the ocean, dance in the water as the sun descended from the sky. Admire the pink clouds and purple skies as she looks upwards, explore the places she could never reach before.

She calls out the name of a girl she thought had become her friend. She calls out for her big sis, her portrait was so close by, why isn't she helping her? She even calls out for him, the man who would have taken her new world away from her had he escaped her doll treasury. It doesn't matter anymore. She needed him, her, someone, anyone.

So cold, it was so cold.

As she lay on the floor, as the crayon words repetitively taunted her, as she begged for her father to rescue her, her world turned dark and she felt so alone, so afraid.

Mary closed her eyes, imagined the warmth of the beach and cried.


End file.
